I Told Him
by Omni-Obiter
Summary: Rachel Hudson kept house, smiling on the outside but withering away inside. At least until Quinn Fabray moved in next door. Pulp Cover by patronustrip over at DA. Had to fic it! WARNING: Abuse and triggery things inside. FABERRY - Now a multi-chapter fic, watch for updates!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, I know I should be working on my Mai HiME and Avatar Fics, but Faberry calls my name like a Siren. Plus I saw this awesome art on DA a few weeks back and had to fic it. 1950's Faberry coming at you. Sorry for the Finn bashing, and the rough content. Hopefully the blurb on the link will have warned those of you who may be offended. patronustrip dot deviantart dot com/art/Faberry-Week-1950s-I-told-him-274595316 To check out the artistic inspiration.**

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><p>The door squeaked open and Rachel jumped, the knife in her right hand falling with a clatter onto the counter. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall and it was only seconds before her husband appeared at the kitchen door, his brow furrowed and his expression dark.<p>

"Hello, dear." Rachel said softly, her hands twisting together demurely in front of her as she turned to face him.

"Hey." His face lifted and he smiled a half-forgotten but familiar smile.

Rachel felt herself relax. Today must have been a good day at work. He strode across the kitchen, depositing his briefcase on the kitchen table as he passed it and dumping his coat on top. He was still smiling when he reached her, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"What's for dinner?"

She allowed herself to smile back as she replied, "Shepard's pie, your favourite."

He chuckled appreciatively. "That's my girl. I'm going to take a shower."

He kissed her again, this time on the lips before he headed for the bathroom. Rachel smiled again to herself, and smoothed her apron down with steady hands. She turned back to the carrot she had been chopping, humming sweetly to herself as she worked. It wasn't long before she steamed the carrot and had stewed it briefly with the mince she'd prepared earlier. The pie went into the oven, its mashed potato peaks perfect and uniform, just the way her husband liked.

Her next task was to hang up his coat and take his briefcase to his den. She placed the smooth leather case on his desk before she took the coat into their bedroom, brushing it down carefully before hanging it up next to its fellows. Again she smiled softly to herself. It seemed like maybe things were looking up. Her husband was being kind and sweet, like when they'd first met.

She'd been no great prize in high school, but Finn had been the quarterback for the varsity team. One day in their senior year she'd caught his eye on her way to the choir room for practice. He'd asked her out the next day and she'd been swept off her feet. They went to the drive in, the hop and picnicked in every park in Lima.

Theirs was a sweet romance and after graduation Finn had asked her to marry him. She'd agreed with little hesitation. Her father had gladly given her away, shedding a solitary tear as she'd walked back down the aisle as Mrs Finn Hudson, hand in hand with her groom.

The problems had started when their old high school music teacher had dropped by. They had been married almost a year that afternoon when mister Schuester knocked on the door. It was half three, so only Rachel had been home. She'd answered the door and upon seeing Mr Schue there had smiled delightedly, ushering him into the house. He'd smiled and took his hat off, stepping over the thresh-hold.

Once Rachel had made some coffee he levelled his gaze at her, "Rachel, I have a favour to ask you."

She'd nodded, smiling as though he could ask her anything and she'd accept. "Mrs Bradley has taken ill and we've no one to play the piano for choir practice." He'd said, searchingly.

She already had a good idea of what he was going to ask. "And you were such a good student, Rachel. Best sight reader I ever taught and a lovely voice to boot." Rachel blushed a little at the compliment even as Mr Schuester continued. "The kids would just love it if you could play for us, I know they would. I've even convinced Figgins to pay you a small salary if you'll take the position." He'd coaxed.

Rachel hardly thought twice before she'd agreed.

Mr Schuester reached across the table to take her hand. "Thank you so much Rachel, this will mean so much to the kids."

"I'm happy to help Mr Schuester, really."

The man laughed then, "Please, I think you can call me William now."

It was that moment that Finn walked into the kitchen.

"Mr Schuester, what are you doing here?" He'd asked, his brow knotted.

"Finn! Good to see you!" He stood to greet his former pupil, his hand out and ready to shake Finn's.

"I asked what you were doing here." Finn stated, somewhat coldly, the light of suspicion sparking in his eyes. Mr Schuester frowned, withdrawing his hand.

"I just came over to offer Rachel Mrs Bradley's position down at the school. She's on leave until further notice." He explained, looking curiously at Finn.

"Why would you ask Rachel?" Finn had asked then, looking over at his wife.

"You know how good she was in school Finn, you saw our choir compete. I knew she'd be the perfect replacement. She's already agreed."

Finn's expression was petulant and sneering all at once.

"She's got a life with me now, she's not your star pupil any more Mr Schue."

"But Finn, darling," Rachel interjected, her eyes still shining from her earlier elation, "William said I'd even earn a small salary. We could afford to pay your father back for the wedding, and maybe even have a little to put away."

"William?" Finn had asked incredulously.

His nostrils flared as his grip on the handle of his briefcase tightened.

"You don't need a job Rachel, I make enough for both of us and you take care of the house. We're fine." He turned to Mr Schuester. "And you, take your _offer_elsewhere. I don't want you coming around again." His free hand was clenching and unclenching.

Mr Schuester paled. "Finn, I don't understand!" he exclaimed, looking searchingly at a boy he'd almost thought of as a son.

"I told you to get out!" he roared, his index finger jabbed the air in front of him, pointing to the door. Mr Schuester followed the direction, scuttling past Finn while casting worried looks at Rachel.

"Don't look at her!" Finn hollered, his face red and sweaty. The front door closed with a damning click. Rachel trembled in her seat at the table, her hands still wrapped around her coffee mug. "Get up." Finn said quietly, dangerously. She startled, but did her best to rise without trembling. "Go to the bedroom and wait for me there." He told her, his hand loosening the tie knotted at his neck. She complied wordlessly, her skin awash with cold, prickling dread. Sitting demurely on the bed she waited.

It was only a minute before Finn joined her, sitting beside her, hunched over and breathing heavily. "Do you know how much I love you?" He asked, not looking at her, his fingers digging into the bedclothes.

She nodded, tears gathering in her eyes.

"And then I come home to see that? Do you know how I felt?" He was suddenly yelling, looking right at her with accusing eyes. "Do you care how I feel Rachel?"

"O-of course I care Finn! I love you darling, of course I care!" She reached for one of his hands but he smacked it away, stiff-arming her onto the bed in the process.

"Then _show _me." He gritted out, hands sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress and tearing at her underclothes.

She never been able to get completely invested in their love making. Finn meant well, she knew but his heavy, clumsy movements negated her enjoyment most of the time. And if she actually started to feel what she thought she might be meant to feel, he'd finish and roll away immediately. What had happened that afternoon though was something else entirely. He entered her roughly as soon as he'd gotten her unclothed. She stifled a scream at the burning sensation. She wasn't ready for the quick pace he set by any means. It felt as though she was being rubbed raw. Thankfully Finn only took a few minutes to shudder against her in release. He'd shoved her away then, scoffing and rolling off the bed. She'd cried herself to sleep in the remnants of her favourite dress.

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><p>At dinner they made light polite conversation. Finn regaled her with tales of his day at the lumber mill and she smiled and laughed in all the right places. When they went to bed that night he'd moved his hand over her shoulder as they lay side by side. It slipped under her nightgown and rubbed roughly over her breasts. She bit her lip to muffle the noises of discomfort that threatened to escape her. He brushed against her backside and she opened her legs enough to admit him. He strained against her, crushing her to his chest as he thrust. The fingers of one hand steadied her hips against his, digging into her soft flesh. Again, it wasn't long before he climaxed, slipping limply from her, his hot, rank breath washing over her face.<p>

The next day she spent cleaning. He came home drunk and questioned her relentlessly about her day. She told him she had cleaned the carpet and did laundry. He called her a liar and backhanded her powerfully in the face. She fell to the floor, her cheek pressed against the carpet which smelled fresh and clean and cried silently. He'd bumbled down the hall, she heard him urinate onto the tiles and cried harder. Then she was wrenched up and her upper body was lain out over the coffee table.

"You only need me Rachel. What would you have if you didn't have me? Nothing!" He growled like a beast, stepping on her ankle as she knelt. She cried out in pain. "I know you're lying to me Rachel. And I want to give you a chance to tell the truth." He pressed down harder and she bit into her lower lip until it bled.

"I was!" She whimpered.

She felt as much as she heard him kneel behind her and she knew what was coming. She swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up her throat. He was in her before she had time to prepare and absurdly she found herself desperately seeking pleasure from his rough handling, pressing her chest to the glass table top for some kind of stimulation. But there was nothing. It felt wrong and it hurt and there was no pleasure in it for her. She cried quietly while he finished and yelped when he slapped her sex with a large hand.

It was early morning by the time she managed to drag herself to the bathroom. He'd been asleep for hours. As the sun rose she looked at her reflection in the mirror, fingering her cheekbone. The mark was large and red and a bruise was blooming under her skin.

Just as she was leaning in to inspect it up close there was the rumble of an engine outside. Peering out the window Rachel saw a car reversing into the house next door to theirs in the cul-de-sac. A woman with a scarf covering her hair cut the engine, stepping from the vehicle and casting her gaze around. She removed the sunglasses from her eyes and untied the knot under her chin, the scarf falling off to reveal blonde, soft looking curls that sat just above her shoulders. Rachel watched on curiously as the woman went to the back of the Cadillac and grabbed a cardboard box. When she hefted it the muscles in her arms jumped, cording visibly.

Rachel looked away, turning inadvertently back to the mirror. The bruise looked worse than it had a minute ago. She touched it gingerly and winced. Greeting the new neighbour was going to have to wait until it had faded. She showered and changed quickly and quietly and was making breakfast by the time Finn bumbled into the kitchen. She kept her trembling hands under control long enough to feed him and kiss him goodbye at the door.

As he walked down their front path, Rachel saw the woman again, this time in what looked to be overalls. She was lifting another, larger box from the car. Almost as if she sensed Rachel watching she turned her head and their eyes met. Rachel felt herself blush and she averted her gaze, turning to disappear inside.

Around lunch time there was knock at the door. Rachel had been ironing Finn's shirts when she heard it, and she blanched. She couldn't answer the door. But if it was one of Finn's check ups, or one of his buddies she didn't want to give him a reason to suspect her of any foul play. She smoothed her dress down and calmly went to the bathroom to reapply make up. There was another knock at the door as she did. When she was satisfied she walked to the door, peering through the peep hole. Through the glass she saw a head full of blonde curls. Rachel felt her heart spasm somewhere in between relief and alarm.

"Hello?" she'd called quietly.

The curls bobbed as she heard the woman reply.

"Hi, I'm your new neighbour." The voice was quiet, husky and polite. "My name is Quinn Fabray, I just thought I'd introduce myself." there was a pause as Rachel silently appreciated the polite gesture, and then Quinn spoke again.

"I was wondering if I could impose on you for a bite to eat. I don't have anything at my place since I only just got here, and my bank account is cleaned out after the move."

Rachel floundered. "Nice to meet you Quinn, goodness, where are my manners. Give me a moment and I'll let you in." Rachel fumbled with the lock on the door, forgetting about everything else but her desire to stand face to face with the woman on the other side of it. "Rachel Ber-Hudson, Rachel Hudson." Rachel smiled in greeting.

When Quinn smiled back Rachel felt herself blush again. Embarrassed she waved her new neighbour in. "Please, come into the kitchen. I was going to start lunch soon so if you could bear with me."

"Of course." Quinn replied, watching Rachel carefully before she walked in passed her.

"So where are you from Ms. Fabray?" Rachel asked conversationally, busying herself with preparing sandwiches.

"San-Francisco." The blonde replied casually.

"Really? So why go from a big city like that to a small town like Lima?"

"I needed a change of scene." Came the reply, and Rachel felt Quinn's gaze hot on her back. It set her on edge, but she didn't feel threatened. Rather she simply felt.. alive. "And you can call me Quinn by the way, if I can call you Rachel." Rachel felt that blush resurging as she giggled lightly.

"If you're sure Quinn."

"I'm certain." something in the way the blonde said that made Rachel pause. There was something behind those two words that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Quickly changing the subject she asked what Quinn preferred on her sandwiches. She replied that she liked bacon sandwiches best of all and against her polite protestations Rachel fired up the stove to heat the skillet.

When Quinn asked what she did for a living Rachel replied that she was a housewife, though she gathered the blonde was just making polite conversation. After all, it was surely obvious to anyone that Rachel Hudson kept house and did little else.

"What about music, do you like it? I just got a new record as a gift not too long ago. You should come over once I'm settled in and listen to it with me." Quinn left little room for argument but Rachel don't think she could have refused if she tried.

The bacon sizzled in the pan as Quinn talked behind her, and Rachel let her mind wander as she listened to her neighbour's soothing voice. It wandered a little too much though, as she reached out mindlessly to turn the bacon with a wooden spatula and burned her hand on the rim of the pan. With a hiss of pain she withdrew, dropping the spatula into the frying pan and cradling her burned hand against her chest.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked immediately, and Rachel heard the muted scraping of her chair on linoleum. She felt the other woman behind her and flinched briefly when Quinn took her by the shoulders gently. There was a brief pause and Rachel waited for a question, or an accusation. But neither came. Instead she was steered towards the sink, becoming increasingly aware of Quinn behind her with each passing second.

By the time they reached the sink Rachel was bright red again. And then Quinn was flush against her as she reached around to turn the tap on. Water gushed out, running over the clean steel sink. Quinn took Rachel's trembling hand between her own and pressed it under the stream. Rachel murmured with relief as the stinging of the burn subsided. There was hot breath on her neck and she felt herself tingle as it washed over the sensitive skin there. This was nothing like Finn and his rough touch and harsh breath. But she couldn't be comparing a woman she'd just met with her husband of four years! She withdrew her hand and turned in Quinn's arms, her lips parted as she prepared to politely excuse herself. But when their eyes met, she felt pinned by the sharp green gaze staring back at her.

A soft, pale hand reached up to her face and pushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. Rachel's eyelashes fluttered. Then that hand was on her cheek, cool and soothing. The gentle touch had her opening her eyes in alarm however as it purposely brushed the bruise she had hoped to conceal. Quinn's quiet voice was the next thing she heard.

"How did this happen, Rachel?" The way she said her name had Rachel's heart racing.

"I have to get back to the bacon!" She exclaimed, breaking free from the other woman's loose hold. The bacon had crisped nicely and she immediately busied herself with removing it from the skillet and buttering some bread. She felt the blonde standing behind her, watching her. She only moved faster. Then she was ushering Quinn to sit down, a wide smile on her face. Sliding the plated sandwich in front of the blonde she turned away to commence cleaning. Only the dull thuds of plates and glasses hitting the sides of sink as she washed them and the ticking of the clock above the doorway kept total silence at bay.

When Rachel had finally run out of things to do, she had no choice but to turn and face Quinn. The woman sat there silently, her sandwich untouched in front of her.

"Aren't you hungry?" She asked, not able to meet Quinn's eyes. Quinn was suddenly in front of her, wrapping her arms around Rachel in a tremendous but tender hug. "Wh-what are you doing?" Rachel asked, squirming in the blonde's grip.

"It's ok, Rachel."

"Ok? I'd hardly call this ok! I barely know you!" She fought against the feeling that was rising up within her and had nearly succeeded in stealing herself when Quinn whispered in her ear.

"You can trust me." Rachel pulled back to stare at Quinn. Fine cheekbones, a cupids bow mouth, a nose perfect for her face and deep hazel eyes that seemed to stare right into Rachel.

She was suddenly crying, "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" she wailed into Quinn's dress at the shoulder, nuzzling and seeking warmth where she hadn't allowed herself to before. A hand rubbed firmly up and down her back and she cried harder. No one had held her like this in years. She was exhausted and sore and plain sick of it. Eventually she cried herself out and went limp in Quinn's arms. The touch on her back took on a different feel. Rachel felt herself shiver. There was something happening and it caused her skin to prickle delightfully and her mouth to go dry. She felt Quinn's head turn on her shoulder, and then that cupids bow mouth was pressing against her neck ever so softly.

"It's ok Rachel." Quinn murmured into her neck, and Rachel felt as if she'd just been set on fire, but it didn't hurt. No, it felt warm and tantalising, but most of all it felt hungry. "You don't have to tell me anything, but I'll listen if you want to." Rachel knew, in the very back of her mind, what it was that she was feeling. The surge of want that followed that realisation nearly made her collapse. She had never felt like this before. Not once. Now that she was feeling it though she yearned for the promise it held. She wanted to reach out to Quinn and let her hands do what they were itching to do.

The grandfather clock in the living room struck the hour and out of nervous habit Rachel's eyes found the time above the kitchen door. Two o'clock. She needed to finish ironing Finn's shirts. Finn! In seconds she had pushed Quinn away. The other woman stumbled back, trepidation plain on her face.

"I'm sorry, but you should leave, Quinn." Rachel said quietly, not trusting herself to look the blonde in the eyes.

"But Rachel..."

"I must insist." Again, Rachel couldn't look up.

Moments later she heard the door open and shut. She breathed a sigh of relief, though the faintest trace of regret soured her tongue as she took up where she had left off on Finn's favourite blue chequered shirt. While her mind longed to ruminate over the memories of Quinn's visit, Rachel resisted, forcing herself to instead think of what she was going to cook for dinner that evening.

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><p>The next day there was a knock at the door, around ten in the morning. Rachel went to the door expecting a travelling salesman, but what she got was her new neighbour.<p>

"Good morning Rachel." Quinn said, smiling sweetly. Rachel froze up a little, before taking a steadying breath.

"Good morning Quinn. Can I help you with something?" The blonde looked straight into her eyes and asked if she could borrow a cup of sugar. Seeing no reason to refuse the request Rachel agreed and turned to go inside. She was half way down the hall when she realised that Quinn was following her. Mildly alarmed and unwilling to admit she was a little pleased to see the other woman Rachel simply continued into the kitchen.

After measuring out a cup of sugar she turned to give it to Quinn, who had taken a seat at the table. With her chin on her loosely curled fist the blonde looked up at her.

"Did you still want to listen to that record? It's a new Chet Baker album. Rather beautiful." Rachel frowned before she recalled the other woman's offer from the day before.

"I really can't leave the house." Quinn frowned.

Rachel smiled weakly, "There's too much to do."

"It won't take long, just come and hear one song? You can listen while I make cookies." She said, gesturing to the sugar Rachel was still holding. Rachel found her resolve, or rather her fear lessening as she looked into Quinn's eyes. They were soft and warm, seemingly glowing with contentment and Rachel couldn't help but want to get closer to her.

"Ok, just for a little while." she agreed and the blonde smiled brightly. They left together, trailing along the footpath trading idle chatter. The first thing Rachel noticed when she walked into Quinn's house was how unlike hers it was. The living room was the first thing you saw when you walked in. Two comfortable looking couches faced a small television set and there was a chessboard set up in the far corner next to a full bookcase.

Quinn swept across the room, disappearing around a corner. Moments later some lovely, smooth jazz minced over to court Rachel's ears. The man's voice was clear but delicate. It was like a butterfly alighting on the score that played beneath it. Rachel felt her eyes close and all she could do was listen. It was a smooth, sweet song about love.

The kind that Rachel thought she'd had. Tears threatened to leak out from between her closed eyelids. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but it was well after the LP had stopped playing. A soft touch on her arm and her eyes fluttered open. Quinn was looking at her intently.

"That was beautiful Quinn."

The blonde smiled softly, "I thought you'd appreciate it."

There was silence for a moment.

"Did you want to hear something else?" Rachel nodded, smiling, forgetting her self imposed curfew. Taking her hand the blonde led her into the next room, Quinn's bedroom she surmised, from the double bed taking up most of the room. Unthinkingly Rachel asked,

"Are you married, Quinn?" The other woman froze, her fingers resting on the spines of her record collection. Moments passed before she finally replied.

"No." she answered slowly, keeping her eyes on the records, her fingers in motion once again.

Rachel felt as though she'd said something wrong.

"Oh." she replied quietly.

Half an hour later Rachel was still in Quinn's living room, listening to another record while the blonde put the raw cookie dough in the oven. The clock was ticking away silently as Rachel sang along softly to the classic that was playing.

_It's only a paper moon_

_Hanging over a cardboard sea_

_but it wouldn't be make believe_

_if you believed in me_

"You have a lovely voice." Rachel jumped in the armchair, her eyes snapping open. Quinn was smiling softly at her from the doorway that led to the kitchen.

"Ah, n-no, I only ever sang in choir in school." Rachel said, looking away from the blonde.

"That doesn't mean you don't have a nice voice. It's more than nice really, it's beautiful."

Rachel felt her cheeks heat up. She didn't know what to say. No one had complimented her for.. for an embarrassingly long time. Probably not since Mr Schuester. That thought had Rachel sitting up painfully straight, neck craning in search of a clock. She was as tense as a rabbit poised to flee.

"What's the matter?" Quinn asked.

"I have to get home." She said, giving up on her search for a clock, but knowing that she had stayed longer than she should have.

"But the cookies will only take fifteen minutes to cook." The other woman reached for Rachel, but she darted from the chair and toward the door with impressive speed.

"I'll see you later, Quinn." She said quietly, not lifting her eyes to look at the other woman. And then she was out the door and heading back home. It took maybe thirty seconds for her to reach her front door and once she was inside she breathed a sigh of relief. The clock in the hall showed it was nearly noon. She grimaced. As much as she'd enjoyed spending time with Quinn, it seemed like a luxury she could hardly afford. She had a lot of washing to catch up with and she hadn't even thought of what to make for dinner. Rachel went to work immediately, hoping Finn was in a good mood when he arrived home.

Unfortunately, he wasn't. Rachel spent half the night on tenterhooks, a brief time cursing what her life had become and then the other half crying and trying to snatch some sleep from the jaws of insomnia.

She suffered through breakfast, barely able to look at her husband. When he left she collapsed against the kitchen counter and cried. Yesterday with Quinn had made her realise that her life was a shell of normalcy. No wife should fear her husband, his anger or their intimacy. But Rachel was fearful of all those things, terrified.

When a knock sounded against the door at around nine, Rachel knew who it was. And she had to turn her away. Despite Quinn's insistence and excuses there was no way she was allowing anyone to see her in the condition she was in. Fingermarks stripped one side of her face, long and purple. She could hardly stand up straight without whimpering from the pain in her spine. Finn had thrown her against the table last night before he'd held her face in one hand, pressing her right ear into the surface of it so all she could see was the damnable clock. And then he had proceeded to shatter her in that final, awful way. It made her feel sick and wrong and dirty. Quinn was still outside, insisting that she should come in, but Rachel just walked away from the door. She needed to get clean, to scrub any vestige of last night from her skin.

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><p>It was days before she saw Quinn again. When they were together again though, sitting at that same kitchen table drinking cups of tea, Rachel relished in the concern and warmth the other woman exuded. They'd kept to small talk, but Rachel could tell Quinn wanted to broach the subject that stood in the corner, the enormous pink elephant. She played innocent though. She couldn't stand to admit that weakest part of herself to someone who seemed to only see the best in her. Weeks passed like that, with them enjoying one another's company in that superficial way. Until one afternoon, when they were sharing a plate of tea cake, Quinn just said it.<p>

"I know he beats you Rachel. I can hear him yelling and I'm not blind like you seem to think." There was a hint of hurt in her tone, but compassion shone in her eyes.

Rachel was frozen, her fingers clenched into fists.

"Does he.." and there even the courageous Quinn seemed to pause, looking away before refocusing on Rachel with renewed determination. "When you.. couple.. do you actually want to?" Quinn regrouped before reiterating, "Is he forcing you?"

Rachel was trembling, she knew that, but she couldn't feel it. Tears were cascading down her cheeks and Quinn was reaching to brush them away with a handkerchief she'd produced from the sleeve of her cardigan. Her jaw ached from holding back the wails she couldn't contain. Quinn was holding her in a matter of moments as she deteriorated.

"We were so happy!" She bawled into Quinn's shoulder unintelligibly, "And then he was jealous and angry! I couldn't stop him, couldn't convince him I wasn't lying." She sniffed deeply, "There's something wrong with me! I couldn't enjoy laying with him, I couldn't be the wife he needed."

Quinn just rocked her back and forth, murmuring. "There's nothing wrong with you, Rachel. You're beautiful, you're perfect."

It took over an hour but Rachel eventually calmed down, half falling asleep as she listened to Quinn whisper. "You can leave, you know. There's no reason for you to stay."

"I can't. I can't." she replied weakly, gripping handfuls of Quinn's cardigan.

"Please Rachel." The blonde implored, pulling the shorter woman impossibly close.

"I can't, Quinn. How would I survive without him?"

"You'd have me." Quinn's voice was quiet, her fingers skated up and down Rachel's spine.

The brunette shivered in the embrace, trying to process what she was hearing and feeling simultaneously. She rubbed her lips together, unsure of what to say. Her heart thrilled, but her brain was telling her to be cautious. Quinn pulled back to look into her eyes. It was that look that Rachel couldn't mistake. It was the look of someone who saw only her. And Rachel knew then that she did indeed have Quinn and that Quinn might just have her. But she owed Finn her loyalty, she'd vowed it. Her fingertips trailed down Quinn's cheek, marvelling at the softness. The blonde's eyes slid shut as she leaned into the delicate touch. Rachel couldn't help smiling. She knew she was lucky to have met Quinn Fabray.

Her life became an often confusing mixture of despair and hope after that day. Finn slew her heart every time he'd take to her, but Quinn resurrected it with a smile and the reassuring touch of her hand. It was enough to keep existing, it pulled at her from every direction but she could keep her head above water holding on to the good things.

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><p>Some weeks after Quinn had offered to take Rachel away, Finn came home in a sour mood. Rachel was staring dazedly out of the bathroom window at Quinn's driveway when she heard the door being wrenched open and then slammed shut. She winced and whipped around to face the mirror, quickly checking her reflection before she went out to greet her husband. He stormed past her down the hall, ignoring her murmured greeting. There was a chink from the crystal decanter her father had given them as a wedding present, followed by the tell-tale sound of tall finger of whiskey being poured. She swallowed slowly, trying to calm herself.<p>

"Don't think I haven't noticed!" she heard from the den and a cold sweat burst from her, trickling down her spine. She remained silent. There was no use prompting Finn, it only made him angrier. He perceived it as an attack on his intelligence. "I can hear you hum sometimes, and you smile so widely when you think I'm not looking that it can only mean one thing." He finished, pausing to take a swig, probably straight from the decanter. Rachel's fingers dug into her palms. Footsteps, a creak and then Finn was in front of her. His tie was askew, his shirt was half tucked into his pants and his jaw was tight. "Seen much of Mr Schuester lately, Rachel?" Rachel's gaze shot up.

"What?" She asked incredulously, near gaping at her husband. A sharp slap snapped across her cheek and her head jerked to the side. The shock kept the pain at bay for a few moments before the heat set in with the sting. She raised a trembling hand to cover her face, tears gathering in her eyes.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Finn yelled. Rachel didn't. The last time she'd seen Mr Schuester was at the grocery store. He'd given her a worried, pitying look before he'd hurried out with his bags. That was months ago. "He's been coming around, hasn't he?"

She couldn't even gather the wits to try and deny it. He was gathering momentum and she was still reeling from the accusations and the slap. "I give you everything you need Rachel!" he was pacing, down the hall and then back to where she stood by the hat stand, running his hand through his hair repeatedly. "I go out and work and come home to you every day! I love you Rachel! I love you so damn much, but that isn't enough for you, is it?" he was yelling so loudly Rachel thought her ears might bleed. She was crying in earnest, leaning against the wall and watching him rave. His eyes riveted to her and he made to move towards her.

There was a pounding at the door before he made it and they both turned. The knocking was insistent. Rachel dared to look at Finn, who made a vague gesture for her to get it. She took a few steps and stood on her tiptoes to see through the peep-hole. The first thing she saw was a familiar head of blonde hair. Her initial reaction was joy, which was smothered quickly by fear.

"Rachel!" Quinn cried, knocking again.

"I'm here Quinn." she replied without thinking, focused on the blonde.

"What's going on? Are you ok?" Quinn sounded worried, and Rachel felt her heart warm.

"I'm fine." She said automatically, hoping to soothe the other woman.

"Can I come in?" Quinn asked quickly.

"No." came the reply from behind her.

With a start Rachel remembered Finn at her back. He had come forward, a hand on Rachel's shoulder pushing her firmly back and away from the door. He pulled the door in, fixing Quinn with a harsh glare.

"Kindly stop bothering my wife and I." There's was no inflection in the sentence that suggested it was a question.

Rachel saw the door open wider to reveal Quinn standing firm on the doorstep, one pale hand pushing their red front door open as wide as it would go.

"Not until I see Rachel." She said, staring Finn down. And then she spotted her behind Finn's large frame. "Rachel!" she said, moving forward, only to be blocked by Finn.

"I don't know how you know my wife, or how she knows you, but I intend to find out. I'll find out from her though, and you will get off our property immediately."

Quinn glared up at him. "Or what, you'll call the police?"

Finn hadn't expected retaliation, Rachel could tell by the way his jaw dropped open.

"It's ok darling." Rachel said, taking a chance as she gently took Finn's elbow and guided him away from in between she and Quinn. "We'll only be a moment." And she closed the door on his stupefied face.

"Rachel." Quinn said softly, her hands already reaching for the brunette's face, tracing the tear tracks and the newly forming bruise. Rachel felt despair as she looked up into Quinn's sweet face. She knew she might not be able to walk straight for days after she went back inside. But having Quinn soothe her was very nearly worth it. She was crying again, grimacing fiercely against the onslaught of tears and sobs she could already feel herself dissolving in. But then Quinn was holding her and everything hurtful seemed further away.

"Just tell me to take you away Rachel. Just tell me and we can be gone in a second." Quinn whispered, clutching the brunette close, stroking her hair. Rachel whimpered. It was so tempting. Then the door was opening again and a livid Finn filled the doorway.

"Get back inside Rachel!"

"Please Quinn, just let it go." Rachel whispered into the blonde's ear. If Quinn got hurt, she knew she would not be able to handle it. Quinn turned towards him, pressing Rachel's face into her hair, petting her head reassuringly.

"If you touch her again, I _will_kill you." she spat, her voice absolutely dripping with venom. Finn looked taken aback for a moment, before he barked out a laugh.

"I don't know you and you can't tell me how to treat my wife. Now _leave_."

"You know where I am if you need me." she said so only Rachel could hear before she reluctantly let her go.

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><p>The guys at work had been hassling him. Said he couldn't keep his wife under control, couldn't handle her. That he was less than a man. When he'd come home to see Mr Schuester sitting across from Rachel in his own kitchen, he flipped. He knew that had to have been what the guys were talking about. He'd denied his old teachers request, kicked him out and taken Rachel roughly in their bed. She was still so beautiful, even when she looked half-terrified. He felt a little sick afterwards, but shook it off.<p>

The next day at work he held his head a little higher.

When the guys would get him down or he felt frustrated or was made to look like a fool, Rachel received his ire. Still she cooked him breakfast, kissed his cheek in the mornings, smiled at him and he was buoyed by her devotion. He felt less useless each time he had her, reached out to guide her into her place. But there was always a lingering sense of failure. And he couldn't fail, he had to keep himself afloat. When she questioned him he was furious and showed it. Soon she learned not to question him.

He hardly noticed that her light had gone out until one day it flared back to life. She smiled to herself and hummed sweetly as she swept about the house doing the chores. He couldn't stand it. After the guys had reamed him out one afternoon for messing up a timber order, he'd arrived home ready to get some answers from his wife. And then some woman had showed up, a new neighbour apparently.

She and Rachel had disappeared outside and it didn't take long for Finn's rage to renew itself. He burst out on them, demanding Rachel come back inside. Then the woman had the audacity to tell him that if he touched _his_ wife _she'd_ kill _him_. He sneered down at her and told her to get off their property. Rachel had paid for making him look foolish and he'd learned that the woman was indeed a new neighbour, and that she and Rachel had made friends. He forbade her from seeing the blonde woman and considered that to be the end of the matter.

A month passed relatively uneventfully before he learned that Rachel had been disobeying him.

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><p>The scream of agony woke Quinn up from a dead sleep. Cold dread washed over her as she recognised the voice as Rachel's, even though it was tainted by terror. She was pulling on clothes even as she stumbled out through her front door. There was light in Rachel's kitchen window. She heard Finn's raised voice get louder as she sprinted toward the back door. She tried the handle, it was locked. Gritting her teeth as she heard more noises of distress she tried the windows either side of the door.<p>

"Rachel!" She called, trying the kitchen window, feeling a surge of triumph as the bottom sash slid up. She was tumbling over the kitchen counter with a crash before she had any time to think about it. They weren't there and the yelling continued, amplified by the enclosed space. She stood up, eyes darting around until they caught sight of what she didn't know she'd been looking for. Purposefully Quinn's fingers wrapped around the handle of a butchers knife, drawing it from the knife block. Her grip was white-knuckled and her hands trembled as she crept out into the hall. Then she saw them in the living room. Rachel was crying, sprawled over the coffee table, her face was red and she was grimacing ever other moment. Finn was behind her and Quinn felt bile rise in her throat even as her grip on the knife tightened.

"Get away from her!" She yelled hoarsely. She walked down the hall towards them. Finn had glanced up, looking angry for the first few seconds before a struck-dumb expression took over. Rachel saw her and began to cry harder. Refusing to be put off Quinn advanced. "Didn't you hear me? I said get away from her!" The knife caught the light, glinting dangerously. She saw Finn's eyes zero in on it and felt a small surge of power at the uncertainty that seemed to cloud his eyes.

Rachel winced one last time and then he stood. Quinn focused on the brunette, wanting to reach out and comfort her but she knew she had to take care of Finn first. "You're going to walk out now, and not come back until tomorrow night." Quinn told him, a hard glint in her eye that told him she was not to be trifled with. He looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, but he shut his mouth and ambled past her. Quinn made sure she was facing him the whole time, the knife pointed at him. She waited until she heard the door shut before she dropped the knife and rushed to embrace Rachel.

"Oh, sweetheart." She murmured, unable to stop herself from pressing kisses to Rachel's hair. The other woman just sobbed, grabbing onto Quinn and clinging to her tightly. Quinn fussed while Rachel cried, fixing her dress and smoothing her hair, rubbing her back soothingly. Rachel was going limp in her arms and Quinn felt trapped inside the house. She knew they had to get out as soon as possible. Her arms went around Rachel completely and she lifted her up, carrying her out into the kitchen. She wasn't going to lie and say it didn't feel amazing to have the shorter woman snuggling into her hold. After she put her down in a kitchen chair the blonde set water to boil on the stove.

"I'm going to pack some of your things, ok?" She told Rachel, looking sadly at the other woman's crumpled form.

Then she was looking into her tear filled eyes, "Don't go!"

"I'll only be in the next room." The blonde said, before thinking better of it and adding "do you want to come with me?"

Rachel nodded meekly, "but.. I'll need help."

"Let's go." She had an arm around the smaller woman, supporting her as they walked to the bedroom.

"Just, just take everything. There isn't much anyway." Quinn nodded and filled a small carry case with what was in a small dresser by the bed.

"Come on, we'll have some tea and then we're going to my house." Quinn said kindly, slipping her arm around Rachel once more. They sat in the kitchen beside one another, sipping slowly at hot cups of tea. Occasionally Rachel would start crying again, silent tears leaking from her eyes. Quinn was quick to comfort her with an arm around her shoulders. Then the front door creaked open and they both froze. Quinn was on her feet and standing between the doorway and Rachel in seconds. Finn loomed in the dark hall, a sadistic sneer on his face.

"Get the hell out of my house!" He yelled, the tendons in his neck straining.

Quinn saw no reason to argue, but as she went to gather Rachel in her arms Finn roared, "Leave her! Just you! Get out and never come back!"

"I'm not leaving Rachel here with you." Quinn said calmly, even though she was terrified. "You've already proven yourself unfit to provide for her."

That hit a nerve. With a growl Finn was on her, huge hands clamping around her arms and forcing her back against the counter. A cry escaped her as he forced himself against her, his teeth bared and his breath washing over her in waves.

"Finn, no!" came from behind his hulking frame but it was like he hadn't heard as he continued bearing down on her, clenching his hands tighter. Then he was turning around, pain and surprise evident on his face. Rachel stood behind him, half leaning on the table, a frying pan in one hand. Quinn's eyes once again zeroed in on the knife block, her pale hand drawing another knife from its place. And as Finn made a start towards Rachel she felt adrenalin surge through her. The time for words was over.

There was a lunge and the slight resistance of tissue but then the blade was sliding so easily, sheathing itself between two ribs. She heard Finn's surprised gasp and reflexively pulled the knife free. Blood gushed from the wound and Quinn felt herself pale. The tall man stumbled and fell to the side, one arm wrapped around him and clamping over the stab wound.

Rachel screamed and Quinn was by her in a second, pulling her into an embrace. When they came together Quinn couldn't help but press a kiss straight onto Rachel's lips. The shorter woman whimpered into the kiss, her hands coming up to hold Quinn's face close to hers. And despite everything, the dying man on the floor, the knife dripping blood on to the counter in her hand, Quinn felt blessed.

"You're safe, you're ok."

"Quinn!" Rachel cried, pressing their foreheads together, refusing to relinquish her grip on Quinn's cheeks. Finn gurgled in the corner, blood frothing from his mouth.

"But we should call an ambulance." Quinn murmured.

Rachel nodded, reaching for the phone on the counter. She gave them the address, citied an accident and watched as her neighbour, her friend, her love, bandaged her husband's ribs.

"Let's go Rachel." She said as she stood up from beside Finn, depositing the knife in the half-full sink and rinsing her hands. Taking the case with one hand and wrapping the other around Rachel, Quinn walked out of the Hudson house for the last time.

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><p><strong>Cheers guys! Get over to DA and support patronustrip if you liked her art work. She's releasing a Faberry calender soon which will be available for download =]<strong>

**Also, she's female! (Sorry about that buddy. I have no idea why I assumed, but I sure made an ass of myself)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all. As you can see I've decided to carry on writing this piece. My job doesn't really leave me with a lot of time during the week, and my actual life leaves me little time on the weekends. So I can't promise regular updates or anything, but I plan to keep working on it when I can. Thank you for all the interest, and don't forget to go check out patronustrip on DA and tumblr for some great art work! Note: The cover photo can be found here: patronustrip dot tumblr dot com /tagged/in-my-mind-the-husband-ISN%27T-Finn (In my mind he was, sorry!)**

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><p>Quinn was a spectacle, her pretty yellow dress splattered with blood. Rivulets of it had run down to her elbow and dried. She felt the tacky feeling of it congealing in her closed hand, which she squeezed into a fist reflexively<em>, <em>grasping for a phantom knife handle__.__Her heart was racing still, thundering and thrilling at what she had just done. They were outside Quinn's house. She held Rachel close to her, smoothing her glossy brown hair and murmuring comforting nothings into her ear. The high pitched wail of an ambulance siren sounded in the distance. Rachel cried harder, sobs wracking her body as she gasped for breath. Quinn allowed herself to cry too, a few silent tears tracking down her cheeks.

The ambulance arrived in a blur, Rachel's statement tumbling out with surprising sincerity considering the pressure she was under. An accident, their helpful neighbour, rudimentary first aid and throbbing regret. The ambulance officers nodded, taking the statement down and tucking Finn on a gurney into the back of the truck. He was pale, but one of the men had smiled at Rachel kindly and said that he was already stabilised. Rachel felt a flash of fear and Quinn a surge of fierce protectiveness, the arm around Rachel tightening its grip imperceptibly. Playing the part of the meek housewife the brunette nodded, offering a weak smile. "We'll be in touch Ma'am." The sympathetic man tore off a bit of paper from the bottom of his notepad and handed it to Rachel. The address and telephone number of the hospital were scrawled messily on the slip. With lights flashing and klaxon clanging the ambulance pulled out of the ordinarily quiet cul-de-sac. Quinn glanced up and around in time to see a few sets of curtains flick closed. 'Wonderful.' She looked down at Rachel, who still clung to her dress despite how stained it was.

"Come on Rachel. Let's go inside." She felt the smaller woman tense against her briefly, but relax when she steered them both towards her own home. The one without the blood stained kitchen tiles. Who would have thought that a small, quiet town like Lima, Ohio would contain more excitement than a huge city like San Francisco? Not Quinn, certainly.

When Quinn's father died, her mother didn't know what to do. Quinn had just graduated from high school and their tiny home felt impossibly empty and sad. She'd always been Daddy's little girl and after he was gone she felt as much like spiralling into a depression as her mother. But she knew one of them had to do something, and it certainly didn't look like it was going to be Judy. So Quinn left, went to the city and signed up at a secretarial college. She got a job at a little bakery near the tiny room that she let from an elderly woman. Each fortnight she sent home some money, along with a letter. Her mother slowly began to reply. It took months before Quinn received the first letter.

_Dear Quinn,_

_Thank you for the money, dear. I'm putting some away for you and keeping the house neat and tidy, just like your father liked it. When you have finished college there will more than likely be a job for you down at the police station. I asked Maud to keep an ear to the ground. _

_With love from your mother._

It had exasperated Quinn. As much as she loved her mother and father, she had always felt like there had to be much more to life than getting married, having a family, settling down and living in the same town your whole life. She would never have said she was grateful for her father's death, but it seemed it was the cause of a great and irreversible change in her life. And she was grateful for the change.

Before Russell passed away it had looked like Quinn might end up marrying the boy next door and moving into a cottage not far from home. It was to be neat and tidy, just like her father liked. But she was in the big city not five months after graduation, making something of herself. Every day when she walked to college she walked with pride, the skirt of her dress neat and her hat pressed firmly over her smoothed hair. She filed in with the other girls, behind the type writers in rows and sat down to work. She worked at the Bakery in the early morning and in the afternoon. The owner was a kind, portly man with thinning white hair and a cheeky smile. The women who came to buy bread were always happy to see him, because he always grinned and complimented them tastefully. Quinn sometimes thought to herself that she would be happy if she were to marry a man like Mr Jacobson.

She had made a few friends that she ate lunch with. They tittered and gossiped much like her friends in high school had, and she felt a degree of comfort because of the similarity. There was a girl in their class who was quiet and dignified, and quite unlike anyone Quinn had met before. They sat next to one another, and sometimes exchanged glances and smiles. Her name was Grace. The other girls would whisper about her and giggle behind their hands. Quinn found herself liking Grace despite what her friends said. One evening, not long after she'd received the first reply from her mother, she was walking home from Church. She hurried along the street with her eyes downcast, making for her little room. That was, until she saw Grace out of the corner of her eye. She was certain it was her. Quinn tried to catch her eye but the other girl slipped down an alleyway seconds after she'd been spotted. Quinn stopped, eyes riveted to the corner her friend had disappeared around. She rocked on the balls of her feet, unsure what to do for a moment before she surged forward, making for the alleyway.

There was noise coming from down the cramped little street, and a sliver of light closing in on itself as a door swung shut. Quinn made for it, certain that she had seen the tail of Grace's coat flagging behind her as she walked through the doorway. The club was crowded and smoky and there was a three piece band on a stand by the bar. Quinn hadn't been out on the town since she'd arrived in San Francisco. If she was honest, she'd been considering it but had been too afraid to take the chance. Now here she was on a Sunday evening in what looked like a jazz club. The beat of the music was slow and soft, the snare of the drum kit hissing softly under the thrum of the bass and the lilting piano driven melody. Quinn was caught up for a few minutes in the sweet melancholy of the tune before she remembered why she had come inside in the first place. She cast around for Grace, but she couldn't see the girl anywhere. Feeling the press of several pairs of eyes on her all at once, she swallowed nervously and edged towards the bar. "What'll it be?" A strong voice asked over the music and buzz of conversation. Quinn looked up to meet the bartender's gaze. In the low light of the bar she caught sight of a small, straight nose and glittering green eyes. Quinn's mouth opened to reply, only to realise that what she was looking for was right in front of her.

"G..grace?"

The girl's eyes widened. The bow-tie at her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly.

Quinn couldn't help but take in the entirety of the other girl's change of outfit.

The white sleeved men's shirt was complimented by a black satin waistcoat. The sleeves were folded up to her classmate's elbow. Her legs were hidden by the bar, but an image of black slacks and wing-tips sprung into Quinn's mind without any prompting.

Grace was obviously shocked, caught somewhere between denial and defiance. In half a heartbeat Quinn had slid her hand across the bar to press her fingertips to the rolled shirt sleeve that sat above the crook of Grace's elbow.

"You look.." she paused, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth up, "amazing."

Now Grace was shocked for an entirely different reason. A blush bloomed in her cheeks. Quinn continued to look her over, quietly in awe of the transformation of her seemingly demure, quiet friend. She was handsome in a womanly way, bringing a feminine flair to the otherwise masculine outfit.

"Quinn." Grace finally spoke, her voice coming out strained and quiet. She cleared her throat before continuing, "what are you doing here?"

Quinn looked up to meet her eyes. "Actually, I was looking for you." she said, smiling. "I saw you disappear around a corner on my way home from church and I thought to go after you, on a whim." Her smile faded slowly as she noticed the anxious pinch that suddenly drew Grace's eyebrows together. "Should I not have come?" She asked, somewhat downhearted that someone she considered her friend didn't want her company.

"No, no, that's not it." Grace was quick to assuage her fears. "It's just, don't you think it's odd, for me to be dressed like this? For everyone else to be dressed like they are?"

"Everyone else?" Quinn asked, casting her gaze around, really looking at the other occupants of the bar for the first time since she'd walked in. Her eyes caught on the firm, square jaw of a woman by the piano, and the subtle flair of hips on every second man. Her heart rate increased slightly, and a sheen of sweat broke out on her upper lip. What exactly had she walked into? Despite the anxiety that was making itself known and lacing itself with every anxious beat of her heart, more than anything Quinn felt curiosity bubble up in her and burst. She whipped around to Grace, her eyes wide and gleaming.

"What _is_ this place Grace?" She asked, her voice doing little to belie her wonderment. Her friend cautiously answered her question.

"It's a place for people who are.. different Quinn. People who can't be who they feel they are in everyday life. This is a place they can be themselves."

Quinn's curious eyes turned back to Grace.

"You feel like this on the inside, Grace?"

There was no derision in her tone, only honest curiosity. Grace nodded once, slowly and precisely.

"I think it suits you." Quinn said plainly, feeling slightly dizzy.

Grace reddened further, breathing out a quiet "thank you." Quinn nodded again, the feeling of vertigo increasing, her own face paling.

"Quinn?" Grace questioned, watching with concern as her friend deteriorated visibly.

"!" a wordless exclamation escaped her as Quinn slumped over and slid down in front of the bar.

When Quinn woke it was in an unfamiliar place and she sat up, startled. A violent throb behind her eyes laid her back down, quick smart. Her teeth clenched together and she hissed in pain.

"Easy, Quinn." she heard Grace say before she felt a cool cloth on her brow.

With a relieved sigh she relaxed, happy to let her friend soothe her sore head.

She slowly slipped back to sleep, the throbbing in her brain fading to nothing.

–

"Quinn?" Rachel asked. Quinn startled, looking over at Rachel only to find her much closer than before. In fact, she sat right next to Quinn, her tanned fingers clutching Quinn's pale ones. "What's the matter?" She asked, her doe eyes full of concern.

The blonde swallowed at her proximity.

"Nothing, nothing. Just thinking."

"Oh." Was the small reply she received.

"You're not going to ask me what about?" Quinn asked, smiling down at the brunette.

"Not if you don't want to tell me."

Quinn felt a surge of sick concern. She wished again that she'd wielded that knife more effectively. "Rachel, honey." she began, turning her hand over so that theirs were linked palm to palm. "If you want to know, there's no harm in asking. I won't bite."

Quinn's voice was soft. She felt very much like she was trying to coax a frightened animal out of a cage. She noticed Rachel trembling and she made a soothing sound in the back of her throat, reaching her other arm around the smaller woman to pull her close.

The night sky outside held a cresent moon aloft, as Quinn held hope in her heart for the woman in her arms.

* * *

><p><strong>As always please feel free to tell me what you think. This is completely unbeta'd, and I know little of professional writing by any stretch of the imagination. <strong>

**Peace.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again everyone. I couldn't possibly continue without expressing my utter devastation at hearing Cory Monteith passed away. He appeared to me like a genuinely wonderful man and it's so sad that he died so young. Our little family that we watched grow together lost one of its members and I can't even fathom the loss everyone close to him must be feeling. But he left a beautiful legacy. I for one will always remember him fondly, despite how at odds I may seem with the role of Finn that he originated. **

**Sad things aside, please enjoy this next installment of I Told Him. I've written a fair bit out. This is only a token piece. Got to say that it's really taking shape. The historical accuracy is.. well not entirely accurate. I'm taking some things and turning them completely on their heads. Be prepared for some unconventional ideas and some familiar characters in the chapters to come. In the mean time let me know what you think! I'm dying for some constructive criticism RE: the plot. I had a few beta offers on tumblr, but I switched blogs so I lost contact with the potentials. My writing isn't the best, I know this. But I hope the ideas are enough to make up for that.**

**Thank you for reading! **

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><p>The next day Rachel's father came to visit. He was a man of average height with loose curls combed neatly under his hat. He wore a freshly pressed tweed suit, a starched white shirt and his shoes caught the light of the sun rising over his left shoulder. Quinn smiled politely, inviting him inside once he'd introduced himself.<p>

"I'm Hiram Berry. It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Fabray, Rachel mentioned you two became fast friends."

Rachel was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cup of hot tea.

"Papa!" She exclaimed as she leapt to her feet, abandoning the beverage in favour of a warm hug.

"My little star." Hiram smiled over Rachel's shoulder as he squeezed her close.

"Can I make you some tea, Sir?" Quinn asked once father and daughter had seated themselves.

"Yes, thank you Quinn." He replied, his eyes kind. Then his gaze slid to Rachel and anxious creases pulled at his brow. "So tell me what happened sweetheart, how's Finn?"

Quinn did her best to seem unaffected by the name, but couldn't help the stiffening of her spine.

"It was horrible Papa, Finn startled me and Quinn was able to help stem the bleeding some but not before he'd lost a lot of blood. I hardly knew what to do with myself." Rachel said before adding quietly, "I hardly know what to do now."

Hiram reached over and covered Rachel's hand with his. "My poor baby, you must've been awfully frightened." he gently pressed his fingers into the back of her hand in a comforting gesture. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before going on to say, "It might be best if you came and stayed with me until he's recovered."

Rachel seemed torn immediately. "I'd love to come home Papa." she said quietly, "But I don't know if I can go back once he's better."

Confusion appeared as plain as day on Hiram's face.

"What do you mean baby?"

Quinn dashed some milk into the cup she'd been preparing hurriedly, almost throwing the quart bottle back into the refrigerator before placing the cup in front of Rachel's father. In the next moment she was beside her friend with a hand on her shoulder. Rachel glanced up at her and smiled a small, anxious smile before she looked back at the man sitting across from her.

"I'm not happy Papa. Finn's not the man he was any more and I just can't bear it." She said all of this in a small voice, drawing comfort from Quinn's hand on her shoulder.

Hiram's expression remained unchanged. "I don't understand sweetheart, what do you mean he's not the same?"

Rachel swallowed thickly and staring straight into her father's eyes she said something she had never said out loud before. "He beats me Papa."

Quinn watched carefully as the man's emotions played out across his face. First incomprehension, then confusion followed by realisation which in turn led to anger.

The only way to describe Hiram's expression was stormy.

"He what?!"

Rachel jumped and Quinn's other hand found its way onto the brunette's other shoulder.

"I'll kill him. You stay right here baby girl."

Hiram was already on his feet pushing his arms into the sleeves of his suit coat.

"Daddy, no!"

"Please Sir, sit down."

Rachel and Quinn said at the same time.

They shared a brief glance before refocusing on Hiram, who was halfway into his jacket, tense and searching their faces for some kind of explanation.

"Violence won't help anything Papa, we need to think clearly about this."

The man shrugged his coat on fully, before hesitantly taking a seat.

"I'm listening girls." he said, eyeing them thoughtfully. "Though if I were to take an educated guess, Finn getting hurt might not have been as accidental as it seems, hmm?"

Quinn froze, a horrible feeling prickling its way across her skin and down her spine. Rachel looked over at the other woman, concerned.

"Daddy, please. It was traumatic and."

"Rachel, stop." Quinn interrupted, somehow as gracious as always. "I couldn't let him lay another hand on your daughter Sir. I just couldn't. Rachel had been bearing it for some time, trying to hide it from me. When I heard her cries last night it was the final straw."

She stared into the man's eyes, her lower jaw trembling slightly as she fought not to cry.

A tense minute passed, Rachel shocked, Quinn righteous and Hiram thoughtful.

Finally he broke the silence.

"Thank you, Miss Fabray." he said, a small, wry smile turning the corners of his mouth up. "For protecting my daughter where I couldn't." He held his arms akimbo, inviting Quinn to be held. She took a moment to realise what it was he was offering before darting forward into the embrace. "You too Rachel." He chided his daughter, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. The little brunette shuffled in gratefully to hug them both tightly. Quinn felt herself colour. Her family had loved her, she knew that. They just never really physically expressed it. She felt a pang of sadness, of loss and a desire to write home to her mother. But most of all she felt the sweet glow of acceptance.

Once they had all found seats again Quinn felt the pleasant feeling drain away at the look on Hiram's face.

"How long has this been happening Rachel?" He asked, his voice both firm and gentle.

Rachel looked stricken, but forced herself to answer. "It started a year or so after we were wed, Papa."

Hiram flinched. "He's been hurting you for years and you never said anything to your Pa?"

He sounded both hurt and exasperated all at once.

"I'm sorry daddy!" Rachel cried, tears springing readily to her eyes. "I was scared!"

"Oh baby," the man cooed, "Of course you were sweetheart. No helping it now anyhow."

Quinn had managed to scoot closer to the corner of the table to lay a comforting hand on Rachel.

"Quinn - is it alright if I call you that?"

The blonde nodded her acquiescence.

He smiled before continuing, "We have to figure out what to do together now."

"If I may Sir." She inquired, "I have an idea." Sitting up a little straighter in her chair she continued. "I am under the impression that Finn is very attached to his manhood, and anything that could be considered a slight of it could be very embarrassing for him." She paused briefly for effect. "For example, being bested by a woman in _any_ situation."

Something about the silence in the air told Quinn she needed to clarify.

"By that I mean, he may well be too embarrassed to come clean about exactly what happened."

Apprehension dawned in Hiram's eyes.

"You may very well be right Quinn." He said offering her a quick smile, "Only, we can't rely on that."

Quinn's shoulders dropped, a harsh sigh of resignation formed in her throat and pushed past her lips.

"Then what on earth can we do?"

The impossibility of righting things pressed down heavily upon them. As Rachel's husband, Finn held all the cards.

–-

Finn's eyes opened slowly. He blinked slowly too, his eyelids gummed together with the residue of sleep. All he could see was a bright white grid, illuminated by a harsh fluorescent light. His body throbbed, particularly his abdomen and he groaned as he unconsciously tried to sit up but his body wouldn't obey him. He lay there for some time, trying to recall what happened. He had been at home with Rachel. After finding out she had disobeyed him, he was eager to re-enforce who made the decisions.

Work never had gotten any better. The fellas never let up, always calling him dim and 'Dumbo'. Even worse was that a girl had been hired as a secretary for the office. She insulted him in ways he had difficulty understanding, but there was nothing he could do because she was the boss's niece. It was almost as if she relished his helplessness, and that only fuelled his anger.

So when he learned that Rachel had continued to see that blonde woman next door after he had told her not to, he just lost it. She was crying and somewhere deep down inside him he felt a shred of hesitance, but it was gone as soon as he took her. His own enjoyment overwhelmed him and he carried on, relishing the power he had over her. The ounce of control he retained. After what only seemed like seconds though a voice snapped him out of his trance. He recognised it instantly, and his face contorted with fury.

It took him a few moments to realise that she was carrying a knife and threatening harm if he didn't do as she was telling him to. He felt Rachel wince as he pulled out before his anger resurfaced. He saw the seriousness in her gaze and did as she said, fumbling with his trousers as he walked down the hall. She kept her eyes on him as he did on her, until he was out the door.

He kept walking, not quite knowing what he was doing. He was down the street before he grit his teeth together. That bitch had kicked him out of his _own_ house. She was in there with _his_ wife. He turned and stalked back furiously, his jaw and fists clenched. He found them in the kitchen and he told that uppity bitch to get out.

When she tried to take Rachel he nearly lost. What she said next though made him fly completely off the handle.

"I'm not leaving Rachel here with you." She said calmly, "You've already proven yourself unfit to provide for her."

It zeroed in on his most guarded insecurity. He literally saw red. He was on her in moments, feeling the delicate structure of her neck giving under the strength of his hands. A sharp pain distracted him and he turned to see Rachel holding a frying pan, one they had gotten as a wedding present. His own wife had hit him, with a wedding present of theirs no less! He saw but did not see the way she was leaning heavily on the kitchen table, fear in her eyes.

For a moment amidst the chaos he was still, shocked. And then the worst pain of all came. A white hot wave of agony overtook him. He reached for it, to try and contain it, to stop it from overwhelming him. He was on the floor in seconds, his blurred vision tracing over the patterned linoleum. There were raised voices and then he felt his hand being pried off his side before being replaced. After that there was blessed darkness, sweet silence.

Finn lay still after his recollection, seething.

–-

Rachel held the slip of paper in her hand, rubbing it softly between her fingers and thumb. Her face was a mask of deep concentration. Quinn watched on, feeling uneasy. Hiram had bid them goodnight not half an hour ago, and since then Rachel had been quiet and thoughtful. He had left them with a decision to make.

'Well,' Quinn reasoned, 'it's Rachel's decision.'

She had to call. It wouldn't be right for a wife not to call for her husband. Even if he were as despicable as Finn. That did not mean that she wanted to though. Her wide brown eyes were pained as they found Quinn's across the width of the kitchen table. Her hands clenched futilely in her lap. Quinn despised not being able to do a thing. She thought of her mother suddenly, and itched to write her a letter. She wasn't doing any good just sitting and watching Rachel, so she stood quietly, offering her friend a brief explanation.

"I'll be back in a moment Rachel."

She went to her room and pulled her desk draw open, picking up the stationery kit that lay inside. Her fountain pen was tucked into a fold in the cover and she toyed with the base of it absently as she walked back to kitchen. With a steady hand she placed it down, her eyes on Rachel. Her friend looked up at her questioningly.

"I,.." Quinn began, hesitating before continuing "I'm just going to write, to my mother." she explained.

Rachel's eyes were suddenly alight with curiosity but she held her tongue, simply nodding.

Quinn didn't miss the look in the other woman's eyes. It occurred to her that she and Rachel didn't know much about one another at all. When they spoke, they never actually spoke about _themselves_. It was Finn, or current events, or cooking. There'd never been a time when they'd gotten to know each other. It gave Quinn pause. She sat down, her hands spread across the leather of her stationery folio.

"My mother lives in Iowa. She goes to Church every Sunday and volunteers for knitting bees." She said, looking intently at Rachel. Now her friend looked not only curious, but confused. "She misses my father and I should write to her more because I know she's lonely." It was half an explanation, half a realisation.

The furrow in Rachel's brow deepened.

"Did you have a mother Rachel?" Quinn asked, unable to contain her own curiosity. She saw Rachel twitch slightly, her expression becoming one of deep thought.

"I did." she murmured after a time, "But she left when I was quite young. I've only ever really had daddy, and Lee-roy."

"Lee-roy?"

"Yes, my father's lover." and there it was, frank and honest.

Quinn obviously couldn't contain her surprise because Rachel looked curiously at her.

"Are you alright Quinn?"

Closing her open mouth Quinn collected herself quickly. "Of course"

"I don't usually share that, to be honest." Rachel looked sheepishly at the ground, "But I felt like you would understand?" her eyes met Quinn's hesitantly.

The blonde couldn't help herself when she reached for the shorter woman's hand.

"I do." she said simply, her thumb stroking the back of Rachel's hand.

Her affection for Rachel very nearly overwhelmed her as she looked into her deep, brown eyes. There was understanding there for her, too.

"And you must know how I feel, Rachel." Quinn said quietly, her eyes imploring.

"I do." Rachel replied, gazing back at her friend as she reversed the positions of their hands so that hers held Quinn's.

"Because I feel it too." she said very quietly. A few moments passed them by as they reverently observed each other. Quinn's free hand rose slowly, reaching out to cup Rachel's jaw, her thumb brushing over the slightly pinked cheeks. Her gaze flicked down to Rachel's slightly parted lips. How she longed to kiss her again. Instead she leant forward and pressed her lips into Rachel's hairline. The shorter woman fell against her, pressing their bodies together.

"What are we going to do, Quinn?" Rachel's voice was tearful, her face hidden in Quinn's chest.

The taller woman tightened her hold.

"You'll have to phone, darling. After that, I just don't know." she said softly into Rachel's dark, wavy hair.

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><p><strong>Please do tell me what you think, hey? I gotta know! Finishing my beer and heading off to bed now. <strong>

**Peace!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again all! Thank you very much for the massive amount of feedback/follows/favourites on the last chapter. If I haven't replied to your review, I apologise. Usual story, life goes on outside the realm of my hobbies, hah hah. Buuuut, please enjoy this one. And let me know what you think! **

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><p>"Good evening, Lima General Hospital. Mercedes speaking."<p>

There was a pause before a timid voice came down the line.

"Good evening Mercedes. My name is Rachel Hudson. My husband Finn is in recovery at your facility?"

Mercedes nodded absently, already flicking through the files in the cabinet behind her desk.

"Certainly Mrs. Hudson. I'm just looking for his information now."

"Thank you." Came the subdued reply.

'Girl sounds damn tired. Must of been up all night worrying about her fool husband.' Mercedes scoffed quietly, leafing through the H section until she found what she was looking for.

"Still there Ma'am?"

"Yes."

"He's in the east wing Ma'am. Ward J, Room 19, Bed 2."

"Ah, yes, one moment." and then, quieter; "Quinn, could you get me a pen?" There was a bit of scratching and then a request for Mercedes to repeat the information. She did so dutifully. "Thank you Mercedes. I wonder, could you tell me anything of his condition?" Briefly she glanced down at the file again, her eyes zeroing in on the latest entry. "It says here that he woke up this afternoon Ma'am. I dare say that he's well on his way to recovery already."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Thank you so much, Mercedes."

The nurse smiled widely, "It was my pleasure Mrs Hudson."

The call disconnected with a quiet click. 'Some women have the worst luck' Mercedes thought as she refiled the Hudson folder. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a flash of blonde. Her head jerked up just in time to see the wide grin Sam Evans sent her before he disappeared around the corner. 'Now there's a man a girl could rely on.' She sighed deeply, smiling to herself as she returned to the stack of papers she had to sort and send out.

Half way through her night shift Mercedes was approached by a waif-like girl with dark eyes and dark hair, dressed all in white. Casually this woman leant up against the service counter. "May I help you Ma'am?"

"If you could that would be wonderful." The woman said with only a thin veneer of politeness covering the scorn that her words carried.

Mercedes bristled immediately. "If you would be so kind as to tell me what exactly it is that I can help you with?"

"I'm here for Finn Hudson."

"Mrs Hudson?" Mercedes couldn't help the incredulous inquiry that slipped out.

The woman laughed a short, sharp bark.

"Not a chance." she said , a well practised smirk slipping onto her face. "I am here on behalf of his employer."

"Well, truly Miss I don't know if I can let you in to see Mr. Hudson."

The smirk soured, "and why would that be?"

"His condition is still somewhat.. delicate, Miss. We don't need to cause him any undue stress. Besides, it's late. I don't doubt he would be asleep by now. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow? Maybe his wife will have arrived by then." Mercedes made no attempt to hide how smug she felt, putting the shorter woman in her place.

She watched with satisfaction as it took a moment for the visitor to collect herself. Then that maddening smirk slipped back into place. "That idiot actually has a wife? I thought that was some story he made up so the other guys would go easier on him."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. So she'd been right about Finn Hudson.

"Girl sounded mighty timid on the phone, but I'm sure she's a good wife and loves him dearly." She tried to recover. Something about this woman made her want to throw professionalism out the window and just have an all out war of words.

"Mi Dios. That poor woman!" A hand flew dramatically to her hairline for a brief moment.

"I'll be back tomorrow. If you seem him awake tell him Santana Lopez is coming to see him on behalf of the Georgio Lopez Lumber Company." Still smirking Santana Lopez sauntered back down the hall.

Mercedes Jones watched her go. The strange feeling that she had met a rival stayed with her well into the early hours of the morning.

–

Santana had jumped at the chance to go see Hudson at the hospital. Her Uncle had bought it up as they were closing for the night. He had sounded worn out as he padlocked the door to the office adjoining the Mill closed.

"Finn didn't show up today and the next thing I know the man is in hospital." Georgio's broad, rough hands scrubbed over his face. "It's been a busy week 'tana. I really just want to get home to your Aunty."

"I could go Uncle George." she said, a delicate hand resting on the man's shoulder in consolation. She hated to see him so exhausted. He was usually her boisterous, energetic Georgie-bear. And as an added bonus she'd get to ridicule Hudson on the side. It was win-win. "Go home and get some rest."

"I couldn't let you go by yourself sweetheart, not at this hour."

"Don't be silly," she said, smiling. "you know I can take care of myself just fine." Shrugging lightly she added, "Besides, it'll only take a moment and then I'll head straight home."

With a nod and a grateful smile he let her go. She got into her car, waving over the steering wheel as he pulled out. Resisting the urge to rub her hands together with glee Santana started the car (a Pontiac Torpedo her Dad had picked up cheaply) and drove out of the lot, heading for the Lima General Hospital.

Her encounter with the nurse at the front desk (her badge had said her name was Mercedes) had left her feeling both simultaneously challenged and amused. She would have to return in the morning to see the lumbering giant. She liked that nick-name. She coined it herself.

"Because he's huge, uncoordinated and works in a lumber mill, get it?"

Santana had tried it out on a few girls at the office, but none had understood her genius. In fact some of them even went so far as to defend him.

"He's sweet Santana. Why do you pick on him so?"

She'd rolled her eyes in response, her back to them before she turned to reply.

"Because he makes it so easy."

He may have had the other girls fooled, but Santana recognised the mean, stupid look in his eyes. The smile he favoured oblivious fawners with resembled the one her little cousin Jose wore when he needed his diaper changed. Santana did not like him and respected him even less. And that she was a woman who wouldn't swoon at the mere sight of him seemed to irritate him immensely. This was something she took great delight in. Finn had once tried to get her Uncle to pull her into line. He'd been dressed down and told where he could go should he keep that kind of attitude at the Lopez Lumber yard. That had shut him up. She had seen him with the rest of the guys, too. They gave him grief like few would believe. It was all light-hearted though. Finn was just too dim to realise it.

On occasion she would hear him boasting about the sweet girl he had for a wife. How she did everything for him and nothing was too much. It was said in that way that men seemed to boast about women in each other's presence. Something about it always made Santana's skin crawl. Surely no woman with half a brain would tie herself for life to Finn Hudson?

When she arrived at the hospital before work the next morning there was a petite, brunette woman already at the counter.

"Yes, that's right. Finn Hudson." She said, quietly.

Her hands were folded demurely in front of her. Her hair was neat and pinned perfectly under her hat, a pure robin's egg blue.

'So this is Hudson's wife.' Santana surmised, her sharp mind calculating the defeat in the other woman's posture. She had always known, but seeing Finn's wife as she was before seeing him for the first time since his accident, it just confirmed everything.

Finn wasn't a good husband, he wasn't a good man. He hadn't been treating this delicate girl at all like he should have been. Santana could see the invisible weight that seemed to burden the other woman. Despite her impeccable posture she gave herself away to anyone who cared to really look.

Santana hadn't realised that she'd been staring until Nurse Jones cleared her throat loudly. "Back again Ms. Lopez?"

"Only to see you Nurse Jones."

That seemed to catch the darker woman's tongue for a moment.

"Nonsense. You'll have to wait until Mrs Hudson is done seeing her husband. If you wouldn't mind taking a seat?" She asked, leaving little room for argument.

Santana groaned, slouching over to the unwelcoming looking seats along the wall. Her uncle would forgive her being tardy for a legitimate reason.

–

It had taken a lot of convincing for Quinn to let Rachel go the hospital alone.

"Please Quinn. We don't know how he will react and I do not want you getting hurt. Besides, I am still his wife."

Quinn tried to not wince remembering that, yes, Rachel was still married to Finn, despite everything.

"Okay." she had finally relented.

There was little she could do in the face of Rachel's wide, pleading eyes. As she saw her off at the door that morning she'd held her small hands firmly in her own, just gazing at her. It didn't take long for a blush to bloom in Rachel's cheeks.

"You mustn't stare at me so." she said softly, looking at their joined hands.

"I cannot help myself." Quinn sighed in reply, her eyes roaming over the other woman's face. "Just, come back safely?"

Rachel looked up and met her eyes. "Of course Quinn. You needn't worry."

"But I do."

Rachel rocked up onto her tip-toes then, planting a soft kiss on Quinn's fair cheek. A sweet feeling seized Quinn, a tiny smile working its way onto her face.

"See you later." Rachel said, giving her hand one last squeeze.

–

Finn lay still under the light white blankets, his side throbbing dully on the edge of his awareness. His large hands were curled into fists that rested by his sides. He was trying his best not to fall prey to the thoughts that were throwing themselves carelessly at the inside of his skull. He remembered the way he used to catch Rachel looking at him in the halls at school. Her wide, brown eyes gazing at him with a look of pure adoration. He had felt so very self-important then. To have a girl look so sweet on him for everyone to see. There had been a feeling, too. A warm tickle in his chest as she rested a small hand on his chest as she smiled up at him. Like they shared something no one else understood. His father had died when he was young, and when his mother passed away just after graduation Rachel was there to comfort him. She had soothed him and assured him that she wouldn't go anywhere.

And yet, here he was. It had been three days since he'd woken up and there had been no sign of her. The urge to weep was overwhelming, but he swallowed it down. He would hold onto the last vestige of his pride. Gritting his teeth he turned his head to look out at the clear, blue sky. It was a beautiful day outside, but it did nothing to lift his mood. With a surge his fists tightened, his knuckles whitening as he forced the blood from them.

Then there was a sound from the doorway. He whipped his head back to look and saw her standing there. She looked small, worn and he didn't know what to say. A large part of him was angry, but he kept it in check as he stared at her.

"Hello Finn." she said after a while, staying where she was. That was what got to him the most. She made no attempt to walk up to him, soothe him again. Fuss over him and rearrange his pillows, ask about how he was feeling. Something in her eyes made him think that she might already know the answer to that last question.

"Where have you been?" he asked. His voice was even, and did little to belie the tone in which he posed the question.

Rachel was silent, pondering her answer. "I've been at Quinn's house." she answered.

The mention of that woman's name was enough to break the tenuous control Finn had over his anger.

"What? Why?" his voice was raised now, his hands flexing. Fear flashed in her eyes and his nostrils flared. This was what he knew. How to get her on her back foot, to talk her out of it, whatever she thought was a good idea. He always knew better, he always would. This he repeated to himself like a mantra. He heard her draw a deep breath.

"Because our house is not my home any more, Finn."

For a moment he was struck dumb. The anger drained out of him like liquid.

"What do you mean?" he uttered, his gaze dropping from her, subconsciously turning from the truth he knew he'd find in her eyes.

"You know what I mean Finn." she replied in a low voice.

"You are my _wife_ Rachel." he ground out between his clenched teeth. "_Your_ place is in _our home_."

Rachel went to say something, he could hear her draw breath but he cut her off.

"The last place you should be is in that bitch's home!" and then he was lost to the rolling wave of anger that had been threatening him. "She stabbed me Rachel! You saw it yourself! How could you possibly want to be anywhere near the woman who stabbed your husband?!" He demanded, even as tears were gathering in his eyes.

Finn's face was mottled red. His eyes bore into her, and he noted with satisfaction the way she shook slightly in place.

"She did it to defend me Finn!" burst out of her before he even had the chance to savour his perceived power. "She did it to defend me from you! From my husband, who is _supposed _to _protect_ me!" Her eyes were sharp, tears gathering on the lids.

"Of course I saw what she did! And if she hadn't I just might have done it myself!" she was screaming now, tears running down her face.

A nurse appeared in the doorway.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, looking alarmed.

"My apologies." Rachel managed to reply, her voice hoarse and trembling. "I'll be leaving now."

She looked back to Finn as she dabbed at her face with a delicate, white handkerchief.

"I won't be home when you're discharged Finn. And there's nothing you can do that will ever convince me to return there."

A swish of her skirts and she was out the door, nodding slightly to the nurse as she left. All Finn could hear was a loud rushing in his ears, like a surging river. The nurse approached him with caution, watching his body quake apprehensively.

A roar was the next thing she heard and it startled her so that she fell backwards over the chair by the bed as she leapt back to create space. Finn was struggling in the sheets, ripping at them to free himself from the bed as hot, angry tears fell down his face unchecked. Another pained roar issued from him as he finally succeeded in throwing off the covers.

Reacting suddenly after the shock the nurse, having scrambled to her feet, had the presence of mind to press the alarm button over the bed before turning and fairly running from the room.

With great effort Finn pulled himself from the bed to his feet. A large hand shot out, closing around the back of the chair the nurse had stumbled over. Grunting he threw all his weight behind a huge push that propelled it into the wall. The seat impacted the plaster and popped off, the rest of the frame smashing into the wall after it.

Next the bedside table was flipped on its side, the draws sliding open, spilling their contents on the ground.

Finn was lost to his rage, and somewhere amongst all the white hot anger, his shame.

Orderlies spilled into the room, three burly men surrounded Finn and attempted to restrain him. Using his large frame he tried to break free of the circle, throwing himself into the other men. They ended up pining him face-down on the floor, calling for sedatives as Finn struggled, shouted and cried into the beige linoleum.

"She can't leave me!" he screamed as he writhed, before he felt the needle slip past his skin and the cold, painful sensation of a liquid being injected beneath it.

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><p><strong>So let me know what you think?<strong>

**And if you have any questions or the like, feel free to PM me. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Long time! My apologies, still busy as fuck getting myself back up to scratch, and my muse hasn't exactly been kicking my door down. 'Scuse the language. But yes, please enjoy this next installment. For those of you who have reviewed please note that I've taken any suggestions into account and used what I think best suited the story. Sorry if I haven't replied! I'm quite scatter-brained at the best of times. In case you didn't already know I'm very much running blind with this story. I have vague plot ideas but not much else, so please feel free to submit suggestions and/or any questions you may have.**

**For brainstorming/updates and the like check out my fanfiction tumblr (omniobiterff)**

**I feel a disclaimer at this point is kind of moot, but y'all know I don't own the rights. **

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><p>"Rachel! That wasn't what we planned at all!" Quinn exclaimed in disbelief, worry suddenly consuming her. Her fingers twisted together, agitating their fellows.<p>

"I'm sorry Quinn, I couldn't help it! He just made me so unbelievably angry and then he went and insulted you and I just lost it."

Her small hands came to rest on Quinn's.

"To tell you the truth it was a relief to say those things. It felt like I had a say in my own future for the first time in a long time." She soothed the blonde, stroking over the backs of her pale hands as they worked.

"He's not going to accept it you know."

"I know." Rachel replied so quietly Quinn strained to hear it despite how close they were. "But I can't bring myself to care!"

A surge of affection overcame Quinn and she cracked a smile despite herself.

Lately it had been like a Rachel that had been stored away for an age was finally coming to light again, and relishing in it.

Her hands turned, grasping Rachel's so that their palms kissed chastely. They looked at one another then, and Quinn felt that hot prickling in the back of her neck and all over her face that compelled her to lean in. Rachel's eyes were half-lidded. Quinn swallowed, wetting her lips nervously. They had skirted around their mutual interest, and Quinn had tried not to think about it. All the drama with Finn and what they were going to do kept them occupied. Except for quiet moments like the one they found themselves in the middle of.

"Rachel." Quinn murmured, praying for strength.

"Hmm?" the other woman replied, preoccupied with watching Quinn's mouth form words.

It was too much for Quinn to resist.

Her hands slid from beneath Rachel's, up her arms to grasp her elbows.

Rachel looked up at her then, her brown eyes deep with an intent that made Quinn swallow a groan.

Even as she went to close the gap between them Quinn was quite suddenly remembering her lessons in propriety. Rachel was still a married woman who, despite Finn's less than desirable character, had vowed her loyalty to her husband. With a tortured sigh Quinn turned her head, brushing her cheek against Rachel's to rest her forehead on the other woman's shoulder.

"Quinn?" she heard her say, the uncertainty clear in her voice.

But damn him, of all the things that man deserved Rachel's fidelity wasn't one of them. He had done nothing but cage her, hurt her and though is some twisted way he may have loved her it was nothing to compared to how Quinn felt.

"Rachel." she said softly by way of reply.

And then she was seeking her out, her nose pressing into her neck, trailing up to her cheek where she sought her lips. The press of them was an embrace, electrifying Quinn as it zinged down her spine, increasing her desire to the nth degree. The hot buzzing in Quinn's ears receded as she pressed further forward into the kiss. Naturally her head tilted to the side, her lips parting against Rachel's, her tongue cautiously seeking entry. And quite suddenly the soft exploration became a hungry exchange.

With each caress she could feel her desire growing. Their hands had moved to pull the other as close as possible. The feel of Rachel against her, touching her made Quinn's head spin. When she felt more than heard the other woman moan into their kiss it was like a direct caress to her most sensitive parts.

They broke apart gasping. There were no words. They looked at each other briefly before Quinn took Rachel's hand, pulling her up and into her, their lips meeting again.

On the desk behind them a crisp, white envelope lay; the fine, curving script of the letter within unread.

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><p><em>Dear Quinn,<em>

_It has been some time since I received a letter from you. I hope you have settled into your new home, and that you have managed to leave all that business in San Francisco behind you. Who would have thought that a young man from the church could turn out to be so rotten? _

_Life here has continued much as it always has. Do you remember Jessica from your year at school? She just got married to the young post master. They are such a sweet couple. I do hope you can find the right one for you soon darling. That's all I want for you, your happiness. That's what your father would have wanted, too. I know you insist on being independent and I think that's wonderful, I honestly do. It is something I could barely have dreamt of at your age. But it would warm my heart if I could see you start a family of your own! _

_The ladies down at the women's association have extended an invitation to me to join their monthly meetings. Apparently word of my delightful preserves has spread! If you find the time I would love for you to come and visit. And if you bring a young man with you then I would be more than happy to entertain you both! I miss having young people bustling about the house._

_With love,_

_Your mother._

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><p>Quinn found herself especially busy in the months following her discovery of Grace's 'other life'. On top of her job at the bakery, secretarial school and church she took on a job behind the bar at the same joint that her friend worked in. After a little acclimatisation she got used to the admittedly unusual patronage. She didn't adopt Grace's style of dress however. She stuck very much to the dresses she had always worn, had always felt comfortable in. The men and women (people, Grace often stressed) who frequented the establishment were polite and kind. Quinn merely watched in fascination as the whole seemingly underground community interacted around her. And served the occasional drink.<p>

The biggest perk of working at the bar for Quinn was the live band. Back home she had only ever seen the school's marching band play at football games. And if she were perfectly honest they didn't really play the sort of thing she liked. Jazz and The Blues though, they just seemed to ensnare her. With a glass and cloth in hand she'd lose track of time just listening to the slow, smooth melodies.

One night when they were cleaning up after closing time Grace had caught her wiping down a table, singing to herself.

"You're good Quinn."

"Oh!" she turned, a hand over her heart in an attempt to soothe its rapid beating.

"Sorry." Grace smiled sheepishly, "but I'm being serious. You could sing up there if you wanted." she gestured to the small stage.

"You're too kind Grace. I don't see how I could possibly." Quinn looked briefly over at the little platform before returning to her work.

"It'd be quite easy, really." her friend said, joining in with the cleaning. "I could just let know John know. He'd be able to fit you in for a number or two every other night."

Quinn felt her mouth dry out. "Oh, no. Really, I couldn't impose."

"You wouldn't be! I'd just ask is all."

"I don't know. I'm not sure if I could get up there in front of everyone."

"Sure you could! Besides, you know everyone loves you! You're the small town girl with pizazz, they can't get enough of you." Grace was grinning at her as she stacked chairs on the table they'd just cleaned.

A blush worked its way up Quinn's cheeks at her comment. "Well, ok. If you could say something to John I would like to try it. Just once mind."

"Great! No problems."

Quinn's debut was arranged for a Sunday evening. She'd been worrying about it all week.

As mass ended she barely bid goodbye to the pastor and the others in the congregation before she was out the door, heading to the bar. Quinn didn't hear the footfalls that echoed hers. Her mind was elsewhere, worrying about whether her dress was where she had left it in the back room. That the band was ready and that she could hit all the right notes.

It wasn't long before she pushed the swinging door open, entering the cool, dark interior of the bar. The old sign that hung about the bar was brightly lit, the dark calligraphy reading '_John's Joint_'. Conversation filled the air, a low hum beneath the sounds of the band tuning up.

Grace caught her eye immediately, behind the bar in her pristine white sleeves. Her friend tossed her a little grin as she buffed the glass in her hand. Quinn returned the smile, pushing off her heal toward the door into the back room.

"Quinn?" The inquiring voice stopped her in her tracks.

Quinn wasn't silly. She knew that there were parts of her life that couldn't intersect. She had come to love the bar and all its patrons. It felt like returning home when she walked into the dark interior to hear the hiss of the brush on the cymbals, the thrum of the double bass and the airy tinkle of the piano keys. But by the same token she felt at home beneath the high, vaulted ceilings of her church. Instinct told her that the two simply could not mix. So upon hearing the voice of a young man from her congregation ring out into the bar, Quinn felt a cold sweat prickle at her forehead and down her back. She turned slowly, cautiously.

"Michael." she acknowledged. "Why are you here?" she asked him, hoping it was merely coincidence.

"I followed you. I wanted to know where you always disappeared to right after mass." He said, his bold confession not seeming to shame him at all.

Michael was a handsome boy. Tall, with a slender face and hands, a dark mop of hair contrasting his bright green eyes. His appearance however did not effect Quinn's reaction to his reasoning.

"You shouldn't have followed me. And you should leave, now." she said, coldly.

He looked taken aback, as if he was expecting Quinn would be happy that he had showed up. He made no move to listen to her however. Taking a step forward he looked around.

"What is this place?" he asked, sounding slightly mystified.

"Quinn?" she felt Grace at her elbow. Michael's chest puffed out like a courting pigeon.

"Who are you?" he asked bluntly, his brow furrowed as he scrutinised Grace.

"I think you should leave." Quinn's friend said, completely ignoring the question.

"What is this Quinn?" he said, anger sparking in his irises, the set of his jaw firm as he squared off with what he obviously saw as a threat.

"Michael!" Quinn couldn't contain her irritation. It was one thing to hold her up after the service with inane chatter. Another entirely to trail behind her and make a scene in her place of employment. "Get out!" the tendons in her neck strained beneath her fair skin as she shouted.

He looked as if he was still going to resist. His protests seemed to lodge in his throat however when a few of the regulars stepped up beside Quinn and Grace. George was a tall, broad-set African American man. His weighty presence at Quinn's left side seemed to have the desired affect. In moments Michael was disappearing behind the swinging door.

Grace's hand was immediately on Quinn's elbow, guiding her through the growing crowd and into the back room. Once they were behind the door Quinn collapsed onto a crate, one hand working over her face as she breathed shallowly.

After a minute or so had passed in silence Grace asked, "Are you ok?"

Quinn looked up at her friend, her head already shaking, tears pooling on her eyelids and threatening to slip free down her cheeks. She was scared. At the back of her mind she had always been aware that the bar's regulars weren't exactly what society deemed acceptable. At least not where she came from. She suspected that San Francisco wasn't all that different.

Grace must have sensed her distress because she crossed the room quickly, sitting beside Quinn on the crate and wrapping the other girl up in her arms. Quinn let her head rest on the other girl's chest, her arms cinching around her back. When her tears had finally dried she drew back from the embrace a little, leaving her arms in place. Grace watched her quietly, her green eyes intent.

There was something there between them, suddenly. Or at least she had only noticed it then. Quinn bit her lip unconsciously before she began to lean forward cautiously, watching her friend's face.

'This is it.' she thought.

The thing that had gone unspoken and was never discussed publicly outside of the whispered gossip of bored housewives. Quinn knew as she pressed her lips to Grace's her life would be forever changed.

* * *

><p><strong>Tada! Hahah. So not done with Quinn's past by the way. The next chapter is looking to be a bit racy.. but I might yet change it around. Thank you to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, following and favouriting. You won't believe the boost my ego gets when I your email alerts. Y'all are awesome. Please hang in there with me. And again, any ideasquestions etc. are totally welcome. Also, this story is still unbeta'd. I know for certain the writing needs improvement so if there are any volunteers please let me know - check out my tumblr! **


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